


Staedtler

by ifrainfalls



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Countries Using Human Names, Fluff, M/M, fountain pens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-06 06:33:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14051037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifrainfalls/pseuds/ifrainfalls
Summary: Gilbert starts stealing Toris's fountain pens so he has an excuse to talk to him.





	Staedtler

**Author's Note:**

> Written by Max and Bus together.

Toris had a problem.  To most people it wouldn’t be a very big problem, but this wasn’t a most people problem.  Somehow, his expensive fountain pens kept disappearing. Normally, he would find his latest missing pen in his pockets or in a desk drawer after a couple days, but this was different.  This was outright thievery.

 

Toris had worked in finance at this office for 2 years now, and he’d never seen anything like it.  He had tried everything, leaving passive aggressive notes in the communal kitchen and- okay, that was the only thing he had tried so far.  But still, it was usually effective, such as when Eduard kept stealing his sandwiches from the fridge.

 

In his mild passive aggressive mood, gripping his latest fountain pen, Toris didn’t look while he walked past the cubicles, and bumped gently into someone.  He looked up- Oh, it was Gilbert.

 

“Hi, Gilbert,” said Toris.

 

Gilbert kind of waved at him, but not really strongly, so it was kind of inbetween a full wave and just raising your hand.  “Hey.”

 

“How are you?” asked Toris, blandly.  “I haven’t seen you recently.”

 

“Oh, you know,” said Gilbert.  “Working hard or hardly working.”

 

They both pretended to laugh at the joke.  “Well, I’ve got some papers to file,” said Toris.  He nodded gently and started to walk past Gilbert. It wasn’t until later that he realized he wasn’t holding his fountain pen anymore.  Where had it gone? Had he dropped it?

 

After work Toris investigated the area where he had last seen it, but to no effect.  The pen was gone.

 

\--

 

Gilbert had a problem.  It had started totally by accident, his hot coworker had dropped a pen, and Gilbert went to give it back to him, like you did, towards the end of work.  It was then when Gilbert had realized he had basically no other excuse to talk to Toris. Even when they did talk because of the pens, it was at times painfully awkward.  But it was better than nothing.

 

So that was how Gilbert ended up becoming a serial pen thief and accidentally terrorizing his office crush.

 

“Why don’t you just talk to him?” asked Francis.  “You know that communication is the heart of love, and-”  Francis cursed as Antonio scored against him in their game of straw wrapper football.  They were so absorbed that none of them were paying attention to the game that was playing on the TV in the small bar they frequented.

 

“Francis, you know _ damn well  _ why I won’t just talk to him,” Gilbert downed the rest of his beer.  “Not all of us can woo the crowds just by being charming and blond.”

 

“That’s 3-10,” said Antonio.  He looked up, “I don’t see why it’s so hard for you, Gil.  Just ask him out for coffee. That’s how I met Andres.”

 

“You’re sabotaging yourself,” interjected Francis.

 

Gilbert moaned in despair.  Not only was he a pen-related criminal now, his friends took way too much interest in psycho-analyzing his love life.

 

\--

 

The first few times--several times?--that Toris had lost his pen, it had only taken a few hours to find its way back to him. Sometimes it would be returned by Gilbert, that peculiar man who “worked” in the cubicle three down from his. Other times it would mysteriously reappear on his desk or in the pocket of his coat, which had hung off the back of his chair. But things had escalated beyond that; now these pens were outright disappearing without a single trace, never to be seen again. No matter who he asked, no one seemed to have seen them.

 

Usually Toris’ interaction with his co workers could be narrowed down into two categories: friendly casual or entirely nonexistent. Sometimes it would stray into awkward small talk, but those were the people who he usually didn't speak to more than once a month. Gilbert was a different story. Each word they exchanged carried an air of uncertainty, as though neither of them was exactly sure why they were talking. And Gilbert always lingered far too long. When they did speak, it was usually about pens. He--meaning Gilbert--would return the pen, typically wordlessly, then either leave or delve into some story too personal to be sharing with someone like Toris, who was nothing more than a work acquaintance. It was strange that Gilbert always ended up returning his pens, seeming too coincidental that he just always  _ happened  _ to be the one to pick them up off of the ground. But Toris was the type to doubt himself before he doubted others. So for the first couple weeks he began to check his pants for holes in the pockets and make sure to place his pens back in his desk drawer whenever he left. However strong, his self doubt could only last so long. He knew he was keeping fastidious track of his pens. And yet they continued to disappear! He wasn't happy about it, either. Those weren't cheap pens! 

 

\--

 

When it came down to it, Toris was likely to be one of the last ones out of the office each night, and since it was a regular night he bid Eduard-the-tech-guy his last farewell and meandered his way out of the office building down into the staff parking lot. On his way home, he decided to stop and pick up another pack of his favorite Staedtler fountain pens at the local stationary shop just before it closed. The man behind the desk gave him nothing but his receipt and the arch of an eyebrow. It was the second time in two weeks he had been back to buy those pens. He was relieved that no inquiries were made about the unsettling number of fountain pens he had purchased that month.

 

As he drove, Toris thought about his pens. His precious pens. The one indulgence he allowed himself. He really didn't ask for much in life other than a roof over his head and food to eat. Were a few high quality pens too luxurious? While waiting at a red light, he stared out at the darkening sky over the suburbs. He wasn't religious, but sometimes…

 

“Did I do something?” He asked the lavender-grey evening clouds. Silence.

 

Aggressive honking brought his focus back to the road and he looked up at the stop light, only to see that it had turned while he had been spacing out and talking to clouds. Flush with embarrassment, he mentally scolded himself for his foolishness and hit the gas. 

 

\--

 

On Saturday, Gilbert was deep in thought.  He was going to fix this, once and for all, he swore.  He was going to casually ask Toris out, and completely forget about this whole pen debacle.  So he was researching how to approach Toris without the pens as a social lubricant. He had made a list of things that Toris seemed to be interested in, which so far read: “-Pens”.  It wasn’t through a lack of trying or interest that Gilbert couldn’t come up with anything else. Toris kept his professional life pretty separate from whatever he did for fun, as far as Gilbert could tell. So here he was, reading online books about dating like a 12 year old girl.

 

Gilbert closed  _ The Rules(™)  _ and sighed.  This was hopeless.  There was no way he was going to score a date with Toris just by “being honest about his feelings”.  He needed to come up with a plan.

 

\--

 

It was 3 AM on Monday when Gilbert finally came up with a plan.  He was going to give Toris his pens back. It had taken a while, but he had found all the pens he had stolen from Toris around his house and put them in a box.  He was going to ‘fess up. Even though it was a stupid plan, it was the best thing Gilbert had thought up after an entire weekend of procrastination. 

 

“Hey, Toris,” said Gilbert.

 

Toris looked up from his desk and smiled awkwardly.  “Hi,” he mumbled. 

 

“I, uhh, found some things that might belong to you, so I brought them.”  Gilbert dropped the box full of pens on Toris’s desk. It thumped. God, there was a lot of pens.

 

Toris looked confused as he peeked inside the box, until realization dawned upon him.  “Where did you find these?” asked Toris. 

 

Shit.  “I…” Gilbert swallowed thickly, “I’ve been finding them and been taking them home.”

 

Toris blinked as he processed what was going on. “You’ve been stealing my pens,” he summarized.

 

Shit, shit, shit.  “Uhh, yeah.” Gilbert scratched the back of his neck.  “But probably not for the reason you’re thinking of. You see…  I wanted a reason to talk to you. I think you’re cool, Toris.”

 

\--

 

Toris definitely could say he was surprised.  But at the same time, he kind of felt like he was floating.  Somebody was interested in him? He had never expected that to happen.  Many, many people had told him he was too boring and stolid to really attract attention, so somewhat curiously, Toris felt happy.  “You could have just asked, Gilbert…” he muttered. 

 

Gilbert looked ashamed.  “Yeah…”

 

Toris looked up from the box of pens.  “But I’m not mad,” he said. That was the truth.  He was a little frustrated that there was such a simple answer to his dilemma, but he wasn’t mad.

 

Gilbert blinked in surprise.  “You aren’t?”

 

“No,” said Toris.  He bit his lip. What did he say now?

 

Gilbert was having the same problem now.  “Well, I’ll be going now.”

 

“Wait-” said Toris.  “Uhh… Do you want to get a drink or something after work?”

 

You could have told Gilbert he won the lottery and he wouldn’t be as happy.  He tried not to beam as he said, “Yeah. That sounds good.”


End file.
